


H and B

by Enchantable



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Bromance to Romance, Epic Bromance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Rescue, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="post_body">
  <p>
    <strong>Prompt: Raleigh was missing or something and Mako was trying to find him because he's her best friend, but the only way to do so was to co-pilot a jaeger with Chuck. </strong>
  </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The pod bobs to the surface

Mako blasts the top off the pod and staggers to her knees, gasping for air. There's no reason to breathe hard. The oxygen that's been pumped through her suit is calibrated perfectly. The problem is that it isn't hers. It's supposed to be Raleigh's. But he's given it up, he's given it up to make sure she's safe. She hears his thought in her head.

Anyone can fall. 

Anyone can--

"Raleigh?" his name is a choked syllable on her lips as her eyes search the water. 

There has to be another pod. There just has to be. There's no endless scream in his head, no broken notes and abrupt endings. But there is a hole in her, one that seems to get bigger and bigger with each desperate thud of her heart as she looks at the still water. It's so dark it's almost black and it's so still she can barely recognizes it. She turns in a circle, looking desperately for what she cannot see. 

"Raleigh!" she shouts for him but there's nothing, "Raleigh!" 

Mako looks around the darkness. There are two bodies underneath her toes, there cannot be three. She's never been one for hope and faith has always been hard to come by. But as she looks down into the darkness she feels like she's plunging below the waves. Like if she inhales she'll drag water into her lungs and just fall down, down down. Until she's in the Kaiju world where everything is slanted and upside down. 

Mako's never been one for hope or faith but she hears the pod pop up over the deafening pound of her own heart. 

She turns so fast she almost falls off her pod.

Then she realizes the pod isn't one of Gipsy's and the disappointment that crushes her is shameful. It's sleek and new, nothing like the ones she oversaw put in Gipsy. It's also got a bulldog blazed on the side and ten Kaiju painted on the other. Mako's heart stops and then pounds double time as a hand pounds on the top before manually deploying the top of the hull. 

She sees the green armor and truly forgets how to breathe. 

Chuck staggers to his feet and lets out a shout that is one part frustration and three parts denial. Blood is hot on his neck and his left eye, nearly blinding him. There's a knot on his head from where Stacker punched him and a gaping hole where Striker Eureka is supposed to be. She's his everything. His heart, his soul and now she's nothing more than dust, if there's even that much left of her on the bottom of the ocean. 

His eyes lock on the other pod, and he can't decipher if Mako wants to kill him or hug him, but the former he thinks. He looks at the ocean and thinks he would have no problem with death. He's supposed to go out in a blaze of glory, in Striker Eureka's embrace. Instead she's gone and he's alive and he can't figure out why past the logical stuff and that pisses him off. 

"Raleigh!" she calls again for her co-pilot.

He swears furiously because of course Becket's got the death he was supposed to have. He shouldn't even be surprised. He hears the choppers overhead and glares up at them, as if glaring alone will make them piss off so he can go back to Striker and die like he was supposed to. But the choppers arrive. It takes everything he's got to reach out and grasp the rope they lower down, sliding his leadened foot into the hold.

He fights not to be sick as they raise him up into the chopper. It takes two people and the tattered remnants of his pride to settle him in a seat. He pulls the headphones over his ears and hisses as the sounds make him want to push his fingers into them. 

"Chuck?" 

His father's voice is a hoarse croak of disbelief and emotion. It breaks around the word as Chuck closes his eyes and tries not to be nine years old again listening to him say the same thing about his mum. Except there was no answer back then. Mum was already dead, crushed under a building either by Kaiju or friendly fire. They'll never know for sure. He fights back the bile in his throat and presses a hand to his headphone. 

"Yeah, Dad," he says, his own voice rough and damningly loud around his ears.

Herc gasps unsteadily and Chuck swipes a hand to his face, trying not to wince when there's blood on his fingertips. It's like his dad's still in his head when he starts talking again. 

"You've got minor lacerations, but you fucked your ears up pretty good when you didn't keep your helmet on for that little pod ride." 

Chuck curses as his mind flies back to the SCUBA lessons they took one of his birthdays. He rubs his jaw and feels the blood. His ears still work but they hurt. Not enough to blind him but enough to make him not want to go back in the water anytime soon. All his injuries are minor though, they're fixable. Because even dying under leagues of water, Stacker Pentecost in an incredible commander.

He looks over at the Chopper team and frowns when he realizes there's a commotion going on. 

Mako stares at the water, her eyes filling.

She's supposed to get on the chopper. Protocol dictates that she get on the chopper and head back to base so someone else can perform the sweeps. But she can't move. She can't move and she can barely breath. She feels her throat working but she doesn't know what she's saying. Just that there is no other pod bobbing up in the still, inky water. There's supposed to be another pod. Raleigh is supposed to be alright. 

"Mako!" 

She whips her head around to see the chopper hovering. It's blades blow water up and make it difficult to see. But as always, Chuck makes himself be seen. There's blood streaming down his cheeks and coating the left side of his face where one eye is all but swollen shut. Yet he still manages to give her a glare that makes her want to punch him hard enough to wipe it off his face. 

"Mako get in the fucking chopper!" he shouts. She looks at the rope and then back at the ocean, "that's an order Ranger!"

Her throat closes up. He can give her orders. He's the senior Ranger. Because of the time crunch her paperwork for graduation hasn't even really gone through. She wants to stay on the pod until Raleigh's comes up, but the only thing stronger than her heart is the years of training and her fingers close around the rope before she can order them otherwise. There's a tug and she has to slip her foot into the hold. They pull her up and push her into the seat, belting her in before she can dive back out and go look for him herself. 

The chopper leaves the pods far behind. 

As it moves, Mako thinks she can see Kaiju blue in the depths but she isn't sure. 

There's nothing victorious when they come back. Mostly because there isn't anyone there past a medical crew. Chuck's grateful because they actually push him into a wheelchair even though his legs are fine. Everything that was encased in the drift suit is fine. His head is starting to hurt worse and truthfully he half wishes for a gurney so that he wouldn't have to hold it up. But he bites back the thought as he sinks his teeth into his cheek not to yell when they shine a little light in his eyes. 

"M'fine!" he protests when someone comes at him with a tongue depressor, "I said ge'off--" he begins when he hears the commotion. 

The medics halt and both their heads snap towards the doors as newly minted Marshal Hercules Hansen strides in. For the first time in years, Chuck feels something in his chest relax at the sight of him. He's still in a t-shirt and his vest, his arm in a sling and Max is at his heels, reveling in the attention. It's his dad so he still kind of wants to punch him, but the training that's been ingrained in him wars with that, making him want to salute him as well. It's a nauseating combination and he mentally decides he must have a concussion. 

Herc stands between the two of them and Mako presses her hands to the bed. Her entire body feels like one big ache but she wants to get up. The look on his face tells her that this has to do with Raleigh. She cannot be laying down to receive the news that he is dead. That his body is a world away and the best they can do is provide a folded up flag and a military funeral. Two empty graves in Anchorage. The thought makes her want to vomit and though she wishes she could attribute it to a headwound, she's physically fine. 

"The second pod deployed," Herc says instead and Mako's glad she didn't make it all the way to her feet. 

"Well?" Chuck all but shouts, "where the fuck is he?"

"We don't know," Herc says, "the pod was tracked outside of the breech but the beacons malfunctioned at a depth of 10,916 meters," he continues, "it was still drifting." 

Chuck glares at Herc as if this news is somehow his fault. Then he looks at Mako and can't sustain the glare. She's white as a sheet and looks like she's about ten years old. He wants to shout at her for her weakness but the desire never leaves his lips. She grips the sheets as she tries not to think about Raleigh's words. Anyone can fall. Anyone can drift. And drift and drift and drift until there's nothing left. It's hard to focus on anything but the buzzing in her ears.

"Were there life signals?" Chuck demands. 

"Faint," Herc replies. 

  
"So what the fuck are you waiting for?" he questions, "he's still alive down there." 

He expects Herc to roll his eyes or tell him it isn't worth the sweep. A part of him kind of hopes he will just so Chuck can punch him and they can regain some equilibrium. Instead Herc looks at the two of them. They meet his eyes and he doesn't know whether to be proud or exasperated. He winds up somewhere in the middle. There is a mandatory 12 hour period between the discharge of an escape pod and the re-deployment of a pilot. Herc thinks the rule is stupid, but considering the one conference he's sat through listening to the bureaucrats bitch about regulations and rules, he's glad for once that they'll get there 12 hours. 

"He's drifting at a depth of 10,000 meters," Herc says, ignoring when Chuck mutters under his breath, "it's too deep for the bots and the choppers can't perform that kind of sweep."

Mako looks at him, hearing what he isn't saying. They need a Jaeger. But they don't have any more Jaegers. And they don't have any more pilots past the three of them. And Raleigh who is drifting somewhere in the bottom of the ocean. Herc says something and Mako is sure she's heard wrong. 

"What?" she breathes and Herc focuses on her. 

"I said, the Jaeger's a few hours from deployment status," he says and her brows draw together. 

"That's impossible," she replies, "we don't have a spare Jaeger."

"No," Herc agrees, "but we've got salvage and a four hangers worth of spare parts," he tells her. 

Emotion clogs her throat when she realizes what he's saying. Four hangers. Cherno and Crismson and Striker and Gipsy, they're four radically different Jaegers. But all Jaegers have the same core tenants. They were designed that way so that in case of an emergency parts could be swapped.  Chuck narrows his eyes as he looks at his father. He knows Jaegers like the back of his hands--better than his hands most of the time. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" he questions. 

"Jaeger might be a bit of an overstatement," Herc concedes, "you've got no weapons, basic navigation," he scratches his bad arm, "but it'll protect you from the pressure and be capable of finding an escape pod and doing the basic maneuvers." 

"Alright," Mako says at the same time Chuck objects.

They both glare at each other as Herc hides a smile. He's not worried about them piloting together. At their cores, Mako and Chuck are too similar for their own good. He and Stacker have always equated them to magnets with similar poles. They push each other away because they see themselves there. Throughout the academy, on holidays, hell even In the end both required older, more tempered pilots to reign them in. 

It's a long shot, he knows that. It isn't even fully his idea. Tendo comes up with it when that third blip vanishes and the entire damn Shatterdome is galvanized. Large parts of Jaegers are considered precious. If they aren't being rebuilt, it isn't uncommon for them to be memorialized or even buried in the place of their pilots. But before he can even fathom what's happening a truck is backing up Crimson Typhoon's enormous legs and two cranes are hauling in what's left of Cherno Alpha's chest. 

He just can't quite believe he's going to put his son in it. 

But Chuck isn't going to let Mako go down alone. Isn't going to let a fellow pilot drift aimlessly when he can stop him. One look at Chuck and he knows that. Already the young man is sitting there being more compliant to the doctors though he doesn't look thrilled about it. Mako looks like she wants to run right out those doors and into the hunk of metal they're fitting together. 

"What are they calling it?" Chuck demands and this time Herc can't help the twitch of his lips."

"Taucherglocke," he says.   


"Fuck," Chuck swears and lays all the way back on the bed as Mako does the same. 


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Chuck thinks is that this has got to be a fucking joke. 

 

 

There is no way they're expecting them to go down into the bottom of the ocean in what looks like something that belongs in one of those old monster movies his dad loves. The damn thing doesn't even have a head. Or hands. It's got clamps attached to arms and a pod that connects to a pair of legs. It's red and green and silver, paint all spattered and chipped. His eyes search for spare bits of Striker, but he can't see any. The thought bothers him more than it should. 

 

"This the best you could come up with?" he drawls at the footsteps that come up behind him, "here I was thinking you were happy I was alive."

 

"Big mistake with that one," Herc replies, but there's nothing but softness in his voice. 

 

Chuck keeps his eyes on the misshapen ball of metal being welded together as Herc stands next to him. He knows his father wants to throw his arms around him, to hug him until he can't breathe and then to tie him down until he can't leave his bunk again. But Herc knows Chuck isn't ready for that. His son's alive. His entire soul is singing with that and for now it's enough to trade their old barbs. To let the words neither has the stomach to say linger there while their lips trade barbs instead. They look at the thing being thrown together before Chuck finally looks at his dad.

 

Herc looks awful. He's unshaven and his eyes are noticeably red. Chuck feels the hot lick of anger that his dad would think he was dead, but he forces it aside. He feels awkward and strange, it's like Herc's become old right before his eyes. Marshal Hansen. The words taste strange in his mouth.

 

He wonders if this is how Mako felt when she had to start calling her Sensei Marshal.

 

Immediately Chuck banishes the thought and turns to the lumbering hunk of metal. Striker was a beauty with the heart of a fighter. This thing feels like it's mocking that somehow. Even the name seems stupid. Stupid but fitting because the thing in front of them is designed only to pe. To pe and sweep and bring back a twisted hunk of metal that may or may not have Raleigh inside. He wraps his fingers around the railing, feeling the cool through his circuit suit. 

 

Herc does not offer to let Chuck stay behind and Chuck does not ask. Herc does not offer even though he wants to, not because Chuck will say yes but because he's a shit father. He's a shit father but if there's one lesson he taught his son it's that when life slams you down you slam right back. Chuck does not offer because a fellow pilot is down there. He doesn't like Raleigh but he's a fellow pilot and Chuck will not let him die if he can stop it. Somewhere deep inside both know that Chuck was not meant to survive Striker, and now that he has he needs to do something. This is a good place to start. 

 

"You really think we can do this?" Chuck asks, and for the second time in years, Herc hears a note of uncertainty in his voice.

 

"Yeah," Herc says without hesitation. 

 

Chuck looks over at him and his hand tightens on Max's leash. 

 

"I just wish to hell I was going with you," he admits finally. 

 

Mako stands at the feet of the Jaeger. She just has to crane her neck to see the top which, in itself, is a problem. Jaegers are tall, they're giants. This--calling it a Jaeger seems wrong. It isn't a Jaeger, it is a machine built for a single purpose. Mako looks from the Jaeger to the picture in her hands. Raleigh carried--carries, she corrects. Raleigh is not dead therefore he carries pictures around. He did not, he currently does. The one she holds is of the old Gipsy, before her restoration. Repairs are being done on her conn pod and it looks like the Jaeger is winking as they polish her lenses.

 

It's her favorite picture of the Jaeger. 

 

She presses it to her heart as she looks up past Crimson Typhoon's legs. She wants to shout at the techs to hurry up. They have to go faster. Raleigh is down there and she has to go get him. But she knows they are doing everything they can to get her ready. One of their own is down there. Swallowing thickly, Mako shakes the thoughts from her head and grasps the IV stand. They're both hooked up to IV's, forced hydration, getting ready to return to the ocean. She wants to pe down and swim to where Raleigh is. 

 

She can feel the echo of him in her mind. 

 

He's at peace. 

 

He's at peace because she's alive, because he knows he can finish this and as long as she doesn't die on his watch. He doesn't care about his own life, not in the scheme of things. He's thinking about the future for the first time, but a part of him is still ready to die. She know she should be happy at the fact that he's found peace finally, that the screams in his head are silenced. But she isn't. She's angry. She wants to know that somewhere down there he's fighting with everything in him. That he's holding on with everything he can. 

 

She can see Chuck and Herc standing there, talking to each other. The older man laughs and Mako watches, spellbound. She wants to hear that sound from Raleigh's lips, laughing as they celebrate saving the world. He deserves to see the world after it's saved, to know what life is like without Kaiju or Jaegers which Mako knows still send an ache in his chest. Mako smooths her hand across the picture, fighting not to crush it in her fingers. From up on the plank way both the Hansen men's eyes lock with hers. Mako's always felt small next to them, but now she feels positively minuscule. 

 

Herc jerks his head in an undeniable signal and she nods curtly, making her way to the lift. 

 

The doors open and both the Hansen men face her. In another life, in another way, the three of them could have been close as family. Now there are miles of space between them. Or, not them. Between her and Chuck. There have been for years. Now when she looks at him all she can think of is the way his lip curled when he sneered that she was a bitch and needed a leash. She looks down, sliding the picture into the joint of the armor at her thigh. 

 

"Listen you two," he says, "you need to work together on this," he looks between the two of them. Mako whose folding into herself and Chuck whose looking like he wants to punch him, "I'm not joking," he growls, "you have limited resources and limited time." 

 

"We'll get him," Chuck says and his voice leaves no room for argument. 

 

"Yes," Mako echoes, her spine tucking in a way he knows Stacker drilled into her. 

 

He looks between the two of them and nods. 

 

"Godspeed," he says, "we'll be with you in control."

 

He nods to Chuck who returns the gesture, a Marshal to a Ranger. He nods to Mako second and she responds in turn. They both watch him walk away, standing on the gang plank. He exhales and looks at her, thinking that there should be something he says. Something inspiring, something befitting the senior Ranger. But the elevator comes down to take them to Taucherglocke and he misses his chance. 

 

"Nothing new there," he mutters under his breath as she walks to the elevator.

 

If she hears him she doesn't say anything, but that's not exactly new either.


	3. Chapter 3

"Alright Taucherglocke we are 10 minutes from neural handshake."

Chuck slides his hemet on, letting the tech lock it into place as the relay gel fits through the circuits. To his right Mako has the same thing done to her. Their spinal clamps have been re-calibrated but first drifts are always rough, even under the best circumstances. And these are so far from the best circumstances it makes his head spin. 

"We're five by five, control," Chuck says loudly, "'cept for these damn ear plugs."

"You leave those earplugs alone boy!" Herc orders through the comm link. 

Chuck rolls his eyes as the doors hiss open and suddenly it's hard to breathe. 

Striker Eureka's pilot rigs hiss down as Gipsy's controls light up. The conn pod is a mash up of both their Jaegers, of both their homes. He reaches out and touches the familiar beams as Mako's eyes scan the holographic read outs. It feels like coming home and Chuck hates to admit it but he feels his throat tighten as he looks around. It actually feels like coming home.

Mako looks at the read outs and swallows back emotion. There are bits of Gipsy everywhere in the cockpit and the kindness of the act makes her throat tight. She moves for the left rig because it's her position. Chuck looks at that for a moment and then quickly goes to the right before anyone can see something's off. He pilots on that side too, but for this piloting might be a bit of a strenuous term. 

"Taucherglocke we are a minute from neural handshake. I repeat we are a minute from neural handshake."

"Copy that," Chuck says, "initiating systems loading."

It takes barely a minute to bring up what's masquerading as their systems online. Their clamps lock into place with a series of clicks that remind Chuck of Jaegers he's only read about. Mako feels everything lock and is glad for the time she's spent with the old books and systems. She shifts her shoulders as the final clamp locks in and the Jaeger hums around them. 

"Alright you two we are about to initiate the handshake," Herc says, "remember, you two are drift compatible but this only works if you focus on what you're down there for. Do you understand me?" 

They both stare at each other through the glass of their helmets. Neither feels confident with what they see when they look at each other. But neither is really there. They're back at the academy, hands grabbing them and ripping them out of the system as both scream until their voices break, bombarded by trauma that they cannot control. 

It's a stable handshake to every observe but them. 

Stable because their minds fit together like broken shards. Everything lines up. It lines up and seals together in a way that impresses everyone. Until he feels the red shoe in his hand and she grips the pen his mother gave him for luck on a test. Then it all goes to shit and they're screaming because they understand. They understand the terror the other feels because they've felt it themselves. 

They're dragged out of the simulator bleeding and screaming. 

Drift compatible, but too traumatized for it to be advisable. 

"Do you copy?!" Herc barks, yanking them into the moment. 

"Yeah, yeah we copy," Chuck says. 

"Copy," Mako replies. 

"Focus," he repeats, "initiating neural handshake." 

Chuck grips the handles as it bubbles around them. It's like drowning. The system is good, it's flawless but the weapons and mobility it's designed to govern isn't there. He feels himself go tense before forcing himself to relax. There is no way what is about to happen can be as bad as that first attempt. They're older, they're wiser--

There's a red shoe in his hand. 

She shoves the memories away as hard as she can. They call to her, urge her to focus on them but she doesn't. She focuses on Raleigh. She focuses on the umbrella in her hands and the one she hands to her co-pilot. She focuses on why they're going down. She focuses on Raleigh. Just Raleigh. 

I'm Chuck.

Is that short for Charles?

No-one calls me Charles. It's just Chuck.

I'm Mako.

Why are you out here alone?

I'm not alone. 

I'm not alone.

You're here now.

He locks onto the emotions of the long pushed down memory. On the comfort of being out alone with someone else. They both use that feeling as their jumping point. The others flow. Sadness, anger, happiness, all of it roars up around them in a deafening symphony that makes his injured ears howl with pressure. 

When his eyes open it's as if his nine year old self and the man he is now are both looking at the read outs from the Jaeger. His head turns as Mako's does. They look at each other, neither mentioning that the other has tears in their eyes. What hums through them is one part understanding and two parts apology. But it hums, low and consistent as it weaves between them and the Jaeger.

"Neural handshake is stabilizing " Herc informs them, "open it up."

They take unsteady breaths together as they force their minds to relax. To widen the scope of themselves. Mako has always thought of the drift as a symphony, all the notes blending together to rise up into something indescribable. Hers is sharp, sharp, precise notes that echoe off the drum of her heart. Even here when she is at her best she is controlled. Wound tight. Like the edge of a blade, forever ready to slice. 

Raleigh's was--is--rougher somehow. It's strings bouncing off each other, punctuated by the twang of something else. Something broken. Something lost. Somehow it makes it all the more beautiful, because when his mind connects she knows how much it takes for him to let her hear all of that. To play the symphony again. 

Chuck's mind is not musical in that way. It's a baseline. All drums and beating heart. It is with a singular purpose. There are no distractions in his him and if there are they are drowned out by that purpose. When the beat is found, it echoes through her and calls to her own mind. She is sharp and he is steady and when they open their eyes, it feels as if they are one. Not like before, not like with Raleigh, but much like with the Jaeger it will get the job done. 

"Neural handshake is stable," Chuck says as they simultaneously release the clamps, "Jaeger is ready for deployment."

"Confirmed, hooks are on. We'll ETA the drop."

"Confirmed," Mako says, "request for radio silence?"

"Request accepted," Herc says, "two minutes," he adds and puts a clock up so they can see on the display, "in 3, 2,--"

"You should be in the medical wing!" Mako snarls at him. 

"I'm fine," he replies coolly. 

"You are not fine," she bites back, "I'm in your head."

It's hard to get angry with waves of control pounding in his head. It's Mako's control, not his. Still he manages and glares at her. 

"Yeah you're talking like me too," he snaps back. 

She swears in Japanese and he feels the anger and frustration that radiates off of her. She's furious because she can feel all the little hurts and the soreness he's trying to hide. He should be in the medical wing because her ears are throbbing and there's a cut over her eyebrow that she wants to touch but can't because of the god damn helmet and this is all Chuck's fault and--

"How is this my fault?" he snaps back at her, "this is Raleigh's fault."

"Don't blame him for this," she shoots back, "he's down there to save everyone."

Chuck looks down uneasily because he can feel the guilt that overwhelms him. This isn't Raleigh's fault because it's his. He was too weak to save everyone, too weak to stay in the Jaeger and help deploy the bomb and maybe if they had gone together they could have escaped together and he wouldn't be drifting while he's in a hunk of metal that shouldn't be called a Jaeger being a dirty, cheating co-pilot--

"Hey!" Chuck objects loudly, "I am not your co-pilot mistress or something," he snaps.

Mako turns bright red as they glare at each other across the consol, anger egging each other on as their two minutes of radio silence ends. They're glaring at the control still as they get closer and closer to the drop site. Chuck looks at the read outs and clings to the anger with everything he's got. 

It takes both of them to push away the lick of fear that settles in the pit of his stomach. 

"We are five minutes from the drop," Herc says.

"Copy that," Mako says, her voice steady, "holding for the drop."

Herc grunts and Chuck grips the edges of the rig as he forces himself to be steady. He can feel Mako's own heart pounding along with his, partial because of his own fear and partially because of her own. They swallow it back as they move into position, the lights of the clock counting towards their eventual drop. 

No matter what they find down there, there are still going to be ghosts. 

"Taucherglocke you are in position."

"Disengaging transport."

There's the tug as the choppers disengage. Taucherglocke does exactly what she's supposed to and sinks below the waves.


End file.
